


Call of Cleaning Duty

by Andromeda54



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon-ish, Eventual Smut, Eventual relationship, Fighting boys, Garrison school, M/M, Possible dorkiness, Slow Burn, Swearing, klance, possible angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-08-08 04:31:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7743493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andromeda54/pseuds/Andromeda54
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cleaning duty? With this guy? Does he really want us to murder each other…?<br/>The story of Keith and Lance finding some kind of common ground, (and maybe something more) hopefully before ripping each other's heads off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Lame title, lol. Canon-ish. The story is set in the Galaxy Garrison which I’m going to be making like a college/bootcamp/military kind of thing. BEFORE they find Voltron and before Keith flunks out of school. This isn’t going to be entirely canon though, so things could get really random, not sure yet. Expecting for this to be around 100k words, that’s how long most of my stories are. (I’ve never posted any on Ao3, everything else I have is on Fanfiction.net) Depends on the feedback. Hope you enjoy!

“Hey, Keith!”

I can hear his footsteps trampling the ground from almost a yard away.

_Fantastic. The school comedian has decided to grace me with another one of his exciting visits._

“Wait up; I’ve got something to say to you!”

For some reason, I bother to turn and glance in his direction. He’s approaching at me full speed, I’m not sure if he’s even going to stop in time before he plows me over. This is typical of him. Always seeking me out for some reason or another. I’m really getting bored with all his outbursts and obvious mental issues.

He caught up eventually and begins shouting nonsense into my ears about earlier in class when I had laughed at his third attempt to pilot a simulator. I try to drown him out because I’ve had enough of his endless complaining.

That was a lot easier said than done.

Since I’m not responding to him, he steps out in front of me, cutting off my desperate attempt to get back to my dorm room.

That’s the final straw. No more holding back.

“If you don’t remove yourself from my view in two seconds—”

“Whatcha gunna do? You got a knife buried in that mullet of yours?”

I snap and tackle him to the asphalt, not even bothering to hold anything back. Hey, I gave him a fair warning. The punches where just flowing from me, it isn’t something I can stop anymore. He deserves it. Cocky bastard. And can he really find nothing better to make fun of? That was like the fifth mullet comment I’ve heard this week and it’s getting old quick.

Suddenly, a fist connects with my jaw and vision goes blurry. I land on the pavement, elbows scrapping and probably bleeding. Next thing I know, my eyes snap open and I attack him with a little more feral effort than I presume possible. I’m not a violent person, more like aloof and avoidant. No one really pushes my buttons. Except this fucking loser.

My adversary looks me in the eyes for a split second and I think I notice a flicker of fear. But then he grabs my hair and punches my throat. I’m not even sure what happens next because I can’t breathe and all I can see are white blurs.

As I attempt to focus my senses I hear voices—quite a few.

_Shit._

“These two just can’t quit, can they?”

“Didn’t they just fight last week…?”

“Something needs to be done…”

“This has gone on long enough! You are _both_ getting it this time!” The last one is our Garrison sergeant, Iverson. I could probably recognize that uncompromising tone even if I was knocked out cold.

I blink the wetness from my eyes, holding the center of my throat where it burned. My chest and his are heaving up and down, his face dirtied and blood dripping off the side of his mouth. I’m sure I look just about the same, save for the bruises forming in different areas. Obviously this situation isn’t one that’s going to be brushed aside or overlooked.

Not anymore at least. This is our third offense. Three strikes and we’re out.

_Shit_. _Fuck. Dammit._

I want to swear and moan and complain and whine, but that isn’t going to make anything better. Instead, I spit out some blood that had been bubbling up near the inside of my cheek and glare fiercely at the one who caused all of this.

_He’s not even a fighter pilot. He’s in the cargo division. There’s hardly any reason for him to even be here._

Lance McClain ran a blood stained hand over his mouth when my eyes met his and all I wanted to do was punch him again.

 

\---

 

“…Galaxy Garrison exists to turn young cadets like you into elite astroexplorers! Not so you can cause a shit storm wherever you decide to land your sorry asses! This isn’t a preschool! How many times am I going to have to break up your senseless fighting?! Or maybe I should just let you two kill each other!”

Iverson has been going on for almost five minutes about how much we both blatantly suck. My mouth hangs slightly open as my eyes stay glued to a spikey plant on his desk. I run my tongue over my teeth, attempting to clean all the blood off of them. My mouth still tastes like copper. We haven’t even been sent to the nurse’s office yet.

_Maybe he won’t let us go. Maybe he’s too pissed and he’ll just expel us both here and now._

Guess I won’t really be surprised if that happens. This guy is your stereotypical leader type. Always shouting orders and pointing fingers all while sipping a cup of booze at the end of the day, commending himself for doing such a great job at pushing all the little people around.

Though, it’s his job and I can’t really bash him for that, as much as I want to. I signed myself up for this, so there isn’t going to be any complaining out of me. Spoken anyway.

I let my eyes drift towards the brunette beside me and they instantly narrow. He is picking dirt from his nails, seemingly bored with the whole situation, a lackluster expression stuck on his face.

_Lance._

Just his name makes my insides blister with fire. I hate him and he hates me. That is a plain and obvious fact. I have no idea why. He just always seemed to get on my last nerve. For horribly stupid reasons, I’ll admit. I wish so badly that I could just ignore him, but he’s the kind of guy that’s really difficult to disregard. The kind that lingers. The kind that invades space. The kind that makes me want to strangle anything in my vicinity. And he’s always there at just the right moment.

_Lucky me._

I guess one good thing will come out of this. Unlike me, Lance has a family to disappoint. How horrible will it be when they hear he was kicked out of the Garrison for picking fights with another student? I’m sure he’ll get punished even more after that. I bet any money that he’s a crier too.

A smirk tugs at my lips as I stare at the ground in front of me, the thought of Lance crying like a baby causing me to almost want to smile.

“Something funny, Kogane?”

Immediately, I look up at the sound of my last name, eyes meeting my superior’s. With all other thoughts absent, I say, “No, sir.”

I hear the boy beside me attempt to hide a snicker and I grate my teeth together, sending more pain to my nerves than intended.

“Good. Now, as much as this pains me to do this, because trust me, I want you two gone just like everyone else does,” my eyes narrow at his tactics, he does a pretty good job at making someone feel like shit. “I’ll be assigning you two cleaning duty for the next month. That includes the commissary, the classrooms, and even the bathrooms. That’s right! Starting today, _every_ day after class, for the next four weeks, you’ll be mopping floors and scrubbing the urinals, boys!” At that he claps his hands together and gives us an evil leer that reminds me of some Disney villain. Then he looks perplexed, and puts a hand to his chin. “Though, I suppose I could exclude weekends, you need your time to study and sleep after all. And I’m a reasonable man.”

Lance is dumfounded, as usual. His mouth hanging open and his eyes wider than two moons. I guess he’s too shocked to mouth any of his snarky comebacks. I kind of thank the sergeant for that. Though I’m just as shocked as he is.

_Cleaning duty? With this guy? Does he really want us to murder each other…?_

A key dangles from the man’s fingers as he says his last words. “This is the key to the janitor’s closet. Report to this office and return it every night after you’ve finished three hours of cleaning. And if either of you decide it’s a good idea to skip out on this punishment, think again. I will expel both of you if I even catch wind of either one of you slacking off. Also, don’t forget, there are cameras all around this facility. This is your _final_ warning.” He turns away from it all and waves an exhausted looking hand, shooing us away it seems. “Now, go get yourselves patched up at the infirmary. One of the nurses should still be there. You’re dismissed!”

 

\---

 

Lance is quiet. For once. It’s a little strange. After leaving the sergeant’s office, we march ourselves to the nurse and he hasn’t even said one word to me. Of course, he has to hit on the woman who tends to us while we were there. Yet another failed attempt at using his shitty charisma. She merely fixes us up and sends us on our way, scolding softy for getting into fights and telling us the normal nurse protocol for keeping our cuts clean.

So it’s just me and him again and I feel like at any moment he will explode and try to blame this whole situation on me. But…then again, maybe I don’t know him well enough. I’ve only seen him get disciplined the other two times he decided to start shit with me. Those instances, he merely stalked off without any words, head dangling and a sour look on his face.

_Guess he doesn’t do well with getting his ass chewed out. Maybe he shouldn’t act like a complete fuck head around me._

Of course I want to put _him_ at fault, because obviously, it _is_ his fault. It isn’t fair that he attacked me for things that didn’t even matter. It wasn’t like I was bullying him. I minded my own business and hardly even looked his way. But Lance is obviously touchy and can’t handle criticism. I had every right to laugh when he got bitched at. His teammate even threw up in the main gear box while they all argued about Lance’s lousy piloting skills in the simulator. Honestly, I just found his whole existence to be a little amusing. So what if I gained happiness from his failures?

Though apparently that’s a huge offense in his book. There were quite a few others who laughed too though, so why attack me?

As I walk behind the boy’s defeated looking form, my eyes drift from his head to his shoes, evaluating without him knowing. Brown hair. His skin a deep tan. Tall, a little lanky. Perhaps, even awkward looking, but somehow he is still so damn cocky.

I notice that he has his phone out. We aren’t allowed cellphone in the Garrison, of course, but I suppose Lance doesn’t bother with trivial things like rules. He is typing away at it, probably texting his friends and whining to them about the situation. The brunette seems totally absorbed and not really paying attention to walking anymore. Good thing I know where the janitor’s closet is too, though my mind is just as distracted as his.

I want to ask so badly why he singled me out so much, but the words won’t come. I won’t admit that I’m nervous or don’t know what to say, but I guess I just don’t want to break the silence. It’s a nice change from the brawling and yelling. I’ve honestly only interacted with him about five or six other times. Every single one being a bad experience, needless to say.

Unexpectedly, the boy in front of me stops and turns around without any warning. And I almost run into him; I’m so lost in my thoughts.

His phone is away now, a frown overtaking his usually dorky features. “This is it,” he says, his eyes avoiding mine at all costs.

That’s okay with me. I nod only slightly and he opens the door.

The smell of must and cleaning supplies enter my nose. I have a feeling that smell probably won’t be leaving my senses any time soon.

Lance slumps over to a wall with a mop and a bucket then picks it up with feeble arms. I can almost feel his animosity for the whole situation from where I stand.

“I hate cleaning…” he mutters a little under his breath, but being in the same small closet, I can hear him very well.

My eyes roll a little when I spy another mop and bucket, my name metaphorically written all over them. “If only _someone_ hadn’t started all this, then maybe we wouldn’t be here…” I say it quietly too, perhaps in hopes that he won’t hear. I don’t want to start anything with him again, it is too late in the day and school is already over and now I am stuck cleaning this damn place for three hours. And of course it has to be with him.

With a mop in one of his hands and the bucket in the other, he eyes me with the dreariest stare I’ve ever seen from him. “You piss me off,” he states, with just as much effort as his face portrayed.

I blink a few times, attempting to keep myself from smirking and laughing. I know that would cause us to start dueling with the mops, probably to the death. They would find both our bodies bloodied and battered with dirty sponges shoved into each other mouths and bleach in our eyes.

I’m going to risk that.

So instead, I swallow thickly and stare directly at him; being sure he can read my identically monotonous expression. I simply tell him, “Okay,” throw a bottle of cleaning solution in my bucket, then walk out of the room, the only thing on my mind being how good it’s going to feel to be back in my dorm room and in bed.

Somehow, even though I have practically ignored him and said nothing to upset even the touchiest of human beings, Lance still manages to say something that is snarky and irritating. “So, the great Keith Kogane can’t come up with anything else to say? Some fighter pilot you are.” He is following me now, his bucket and mop combo dragging nosily on the floor beside him.

I can’t keep anything in after that. The anger is rising even though I tried so hard to keep it down. “Since _when_ have I been great? And what the fuck does me being a fighter pilot have to do with anything right now? I swear to god, you’re constantly _trying_ to get on my nerves.”

Lance runs ahead of me then, the scraping sounds from his cleaning supplies causing me to cringe. “Uh, are you blind? Half the school thinks you’re the coolest thing since free porn and that you can do no wrong! You’re one of the best pilots in this entire program; I definitely hear that more than I want to… Practically every girl I try to hit on just thinks I’m a looser while they’re all over you and you don’t even notice!” He throws his supplies down and stops in front of me as I stare with wide eyes, taking in all he has to say. “And besides, fighter pilots are supposed to be bad asses, not some pussy pushovers who can’t even throw some insults…and…uhm…” Lance falters then looks to the ground where his mop has landed, his breathing elevated. He looks as if he’s just said something he shouldn’t have. Regret is covering his features and I try not to laugh again.

Not that I really want to. I mean, I do, but I also feel…strange. Like he probably really _shouldn’t_ have said any of that, but also relieved because it all kind of makes sense now.

“So you’re…jealous of me?”      

Instantly his mood changes—zero to a hundred, real quick. “You _wish_.”               

I laugh, scathingly of course. I had to. He is so utterly wrong in all prospects. Lance has this odd kind of God complex that I will probably never understand. And neither of us have the time to be mulling it over in the school halls either.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I sigh and close my eyes. With a lazy finger I dully point at his mop and tell him, “Pick up your shit and let’s get this over with. I really don’t want to play this game with you anymore.” I then avoid him as he scrambles for his things and begin walking into one of the classrooms.

It’s dark so I flick the light on, one of my eyes closing at the sudden intensity. It becomes a lot brighter than it was in vacant, dimly lit hallways. Lance comes bursting in after that, hurling his mop and bucket onto the floor once again.

My whole body jerks at the sudden loud noise that seems to echo through the entire school.

_What the hell is wrong with this guy!?_

“Why do you always have to laugh at me?”

My eyes practically roll themselves into another dimension.

_You have got to be kidding me…_

I guess it was too much to ask for this to be a quiet endeavor.

“Because everyone else does.” I cross the room and begin using the sink in the corner to fill up my bucket, attempting to even slightly avoid this situation by keeping busy with the task at hand.

“Yeah, but they laugh at my jokes. You just laugh at _me_.” There’s a tiny growl behind his words and when I glance at him, his arms are crossed and he hasn’t even bothered to pick up the damn mop.

I am going to hit him with mine if he doesn’t.

“Well you _are_ a joke. So there’s that,” I state evenly while turning the water off.

_Just focus on the cleaning. This will all be over soon…just four more weeks of this…I can handle that, right?_

Next thing I know, Lance comes stampeding over to me and grips a fist full of my shirt in his angry hand. I wonder if he is like this to anyone else, or am I just special somehow? Maybe I am the only one who can push his buttons too. The thought makes me smirk a little.

“If you start this again, both of us will be expelled. So I’d rethink your actions if I were you,” I say as calmly as possible. Even if he is so easily butt-hurt about everything and it’s kind of fun to watch, I know there are cameras in here and Iverson is probably watching us like a hawk at this very moment while sipping his cup of Jaeger or whatever.

The teen’s breath is hot on my face as he clutches even tighter at my clothing, pulling my body half an inch closer. “One of these days you’ll laugh at my jokes, and you won’t be laughing at me anymore.”

His words kind of surprise me, actually. Even if it was kind of a stupid thing to say, I still commended him for even saying it in the first place. He impressed me, if only by just a small fraction.

Biting back every comeback I have, I simply speak as kindly as possible, “Great. Wonderful. Now can we please cut the shit and clean?”

His grip loosens and he steps backwards, almost tripping over a chair in the process. I fight back the urge to chuckle. He would probably snap if I did.

As I watch Lance McClain stumble over to his cleaning supplies, I confirm to myself that this is going to be a very long four weeks.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW I finally wrote more to this story! I know it's not much...but there will be more soon! I really have been getting back into Klance and I just can't seem to find any with as much depth as I want...so I hope I can make this one as good as I want it to be! Lol...hope you guys like this chapter. :] Also I switched around the writing style a bit, it's a lot easier for me to write this way and it makes the story seem a lot more real as well, in my opinion :]

Three very awkward and grueling hours later, we both trudge back to the main office to return the keys. I’m tired as all hell. The clock on the wall reads 6:50pm...Classes start early at the Garrison—promptly at six. I’m a morning person in general, but I still cherish my sleep.

I suddenly realize I haven’t eaten anything since noon. My stomach growls loudly as Lance hangs up the keys.

He stares at me briefly. I glare back.

“You hungry?” he unexpectedly asks.

I open my mouth and let my eyes wander as I turn around and leave the office. “You’re _so_ observant.”

“Wanna go get some food?”

My eyes suspiciously narrow.

_Why would he even ask me that…?_

As we walk through the exit doors, he speaks again. “Figured since we’re both hungry, we might as well go together.”

Was this some kind of ploy? Last time I checked, he hated my guts. The bruise on my temple pulses and reminds me of that fact.

I kick a stone across the pavement, still glaring at the ground. “I’m not sure what you’re trying to do, but just because we’re stuck cleaning together for a month, doesn’t mean we have to be friends.”

There is silence and then he sighs and lets out a small laugh. “…Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Things become uncomfortable for a moment, and then he leaves me. I figure his dorm is probably in the West building, mine being in the North. Though, I’m not really sure. Maybe he just left because of how awkward the air around us was. Maybe he’s just taking the long way to avoid me. Regardless, I’m happy to be rid of him.

I stalk off towards my dorm room and sigh heavily when I finally reach the comfort of my own space. It’s a small room, nothing special. I have a tiny fridge, a bed, a desk and a laptop. There’s not much personality to the room, aside from a painting of a red lion that I’ve had since I was a kid. When I was little, my dad gave it to me.

It’s one of the only things I have from my childhood.

Aside from that, there’s books and schoolwork everywhere. The Galaxy Garrison isn’t without its text books and late night study sessions. Luckily though, I have the room to myself. Quite a lot of the dorm rooms have two students living in them.

I lean down towards the fridge and pull out a pre-wrapped sandwich, not even bothering to sit down before taking a bite. I also grab a bag of chips from the shelf and a bottle of water then sit at my desk and indulge myself. It’s hard to eat slowly when I’m so hungry. I finish the food in minutes.

Gulping down the water, I glance at my phone which I’d placed on the desk already. It’s getting late and I still haven’t studied for the test I have tomorrow in my Galactic Travels class.

I cross my legs and slowly pick up the book and begin reading through chapter seven. My mind starts to drift though.

_…It’s only been two months since school started and I’ve already been on their shit list three times. I’m so close to being kicked out…how did I manage that in such a short time?_

Honestly, Lance really _is_ the one to blame for it all.

My mind goes back to earlier when he asked me to go get food with him. I’ve never seen him act so calm towards me. And when I shut him down…did he seem almost…disappointed…?

**_“…Yeah, I guess you’re right.”_ **

I grip the pages of my text book tightly and pinch my eyes closed.

_I’m over thinking this._

 

_\---_

 

That night I had a weird dream about a blue lion. Kind of like the one in my painting. It was gentle, but also very obnoxious. When I looked hard enough, I could see images of Lance reflecting in its eyes.

When I sit up in bed, I rub my head and glare at nothing in particular.

_Great, now I’m having dreams about him. And it’s only been one day…_

When I grab my shower stuff and some clean clothes from the closet, I check my phone quickly, seeing no texts from anyone, as usual. I have been avoiding giving my number out to anyone so far. Even before I joined this school, friends were scarce for me. I guess you could call me a loner, but I like to think of myself as independent.

Yawning, I exit my room and make my way towards the shower rooms. My dormitory is all boys—the girl’s dorm being in the East and South buildings. So of course I run into quite a few guys on my way there. None of them bother to say hi, I haven’t bothered to do so either.

Though, when I begin to take my shirt off, I suddenly hear someone close behind me.

“Hey.”

I pause, since I’m the only one nearby to be acknowledged, it must mean he’s talking to me.

_That voice…_

Lance steps beside me, removing his own shirt and throwing it over the metal bar to my left. My eyes are wide and I blink them dumbly a few times, trying to not concentrate on how uneasy I am.

After my uncooperative silence, he turns to face me but I keep my eyes on the tiled ground. “I just wanted to say…I’m sorry…about everything…I’ve been really abrasive to you and…” he stops for a minute, swallowing thickly. This must be pretty difficult for him. “…and I want to try and make things better.”

Honestly, I’m surprised. Surprised he apologized. Surprised he used the word abrasive. It’s like this isn’t the same Lance that’s been attacking me at random and fucking up my school life.

I figure I should say something though, since the more I contemplate how shocked I am, the more strange the atmosphere seems to get.

“You can’t expect me to just forgive you. You know that, right…? You’ve put my whole existence at this school in jeopardy. I could be expelled because of you.” I let my eyes shift some more, making sure not to make any eye contact. It’d be weird since we’re both shirtless and he’s getting all embarrassing and emotional.

He sighs and says, “Yeah. I know. And I’m really sorry… I don’t want to fight anymore…”

“Same,” I say.

“Okay, that’s good. I’ll just…work on being less…”

“Abrasive…?”

Lance chuckles. “Yeah. That.”

I nod a little and pick at my finger nails.

_This is so weird._

He seems to feel the same. “I’ll, uh…let you shower now.”

“Mmm,” I make a small noise and I step into the shower, closing the curtain quickly and undressing fully. As soon as I throw my shorts onto the metal rack I turn the water onto scolding hot and lean my forehead against the cold wall.

_What the hell just happened…?_

It’s like the Lance I know has been replaced with some robot who actually acts like a decent human being.

It takes me awhile to begin scrubbing myself with soap. For a while, I just contemplate on staying in the washroom forever. Though I can sense the minutes ticking by and class is going to start soon and I’ll definitely turn into a prune if I stay in here any longer.

When I step out of the shower, Lance is gone. He must have left a while ago. It makes me wonder if he woke up early just to contact me. I didn’t even know he was in my building…

I shrug off the strange feelings in my stomach and decide to grab a quick breakfast at the mess hall.

 

\---

 

A drop of water from my hair drips onto my hand as I bite into an egg sandwich. I guess I didn’t dry off as well as I should have.

And suddenly, as if some performance of cruel fate was showering down upon me, _he_ sits down right across from me.

My stare probably can’t get any more reluctant.

“Hey.”

_Again with the “hey” like we’re best fucking friends._

“Do you need something?”

He quickly puts on some kind of innocent visage. “Uh, I just saw you sitting alone and figured I’d join you.”

“This isn’t kindergarten. I don’t need someone to sit with me,” I hiss.

Lance purses his lips together and begins cracking his knuckles. “Maybe you need to be a little less abrasive too, dude. I’m just trying to be nice.”

“Since when have you ever been nice to me?”

“Look, I said I was sorry, didn’t I?”

My eyes snap open and land on him angrily. “Yeah, and I said I didn’t forgive you.”

“ _Okay_ …” I watch him grip the table, his finger nails biting into the plastic on the edges. “So…what can I do to get you to forgive me then?”

_Why the hell is he doing this? Why is he trying so hard to earn my forgiveness all of a sudden? What in God’s name has possessed this kid?_

“Why are you doing this?”

I watch as he looks up from the table with an abrupt jolt. “Huh?”

“ _Why_ …are you doing this?” I ask again, feeling no need to explain the question further. Even if he is a moron, he has to be smart enough to understand.

His dark blue eyes dart all over the lunch room then back to the table where he begins to pick at a piece of loose plastic. The boy clears his throat and I wait somewhat patiently for his response. Finally, he takes in a deep breath and lets it out then bites his lip and says, “Cause Iverson called my parents and I got majorly bitched at and they said that if I don’t make friends with you, then I’ll be sent home and grounded for the rest of my teenage life and forced to go back to my job flipping burgers…”

It all makes sense now. His parents sound strict. Guess I wouldn’t really know how that feels though.

I place the small amount of sandwich I have on my wrapper and eye the other boy lazily. “So...the only reason you apologized was because you’re trying to save your sorry ass from being punished.”

“…You don’t have to say it like that.” Lance glares off into the distance, probably too agitated to even look at me.

A smirk grows on my face as I watch him. “So your future is dependent on me now? You _have_ to be nice to me or else you’re in deep shit, is that right?”

His eyes roll dramatically and then he raises his hands up in defeat. “Yes! Do you want me to polish your shoes or hold your book bag for you?!”

I laugh so loudly my throat hurts. “This is too much…” When I lower my head, I run my fingers through my hair roughly. “Actually, you could start by throwing away my trash.” I point to the garbage on the table and smirk at him again.

Lance scowls furiously and stands up from his seat, causing it to screech across the floor noisily. He then quickly swipes the wrapper out from under me and crumples it up with enough anger to crush a skull then stalks off towards a garbage can.

This whole situation might be a lot more interesting than I thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting good ;] I know Keith is a bit of a meany to Lance right now...and Lance is kind of a douche bag too, lol but they will love each other eventually! I just love slow burn stories... <3 Thanks for reading guys! Please leave a kudo or a comment! They are much appreciated ^_^


End file.
